


So You Think You Can Host Club?

by Gingersaurus



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Crossdressing, Host Clubs, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingersaurus/pseuds/Gingersaurus
Summary: After several Ouran Academy alumni become their customers, the hosts of Club Couronne descend on the Ouran High School Host Club to see what makes these amateurs so special.





	1. Interesting

**Author's Note:**

> This is highly based around original characters. Sorry if that's not your style, I just wanted to play around with designing my own host club.

“Ouran, huh?”

  
“Yes,” one young woman said. “It’s an elite private school in Bunkyou. All three of us went there, actually.”

One of the other women at the table nodded. “We graduated last year.”

“I’ve heard of Ouran before, from other customers… They have something like a host club there, don’t they?” came the only masculine voice at the table.

“They do,” said the third woman. “Ouran High School Host Club. We used to be regulars there.”

“Not that we could bare something that childish now,” said the first woman. “Not after we’ve become so accustomed to your service, Tetsuya-sama.”

“I’m flattered,” the man, Tetsuya, chuckled. “But it’s hard to say for sure when I don’t know what I’m up against. This High School Host Club sounds funny. I would love to hear more about it.”

“But, Tetsuya,” one of the women moaned, “we’re adults now. Why don’t we talk about something more mature?”

“Of course,” Tetsuya agreed. “I’m sorry to belittle you that way, ladies. Never mind these children from your past, tell me how you’ve been.”

Throughout the conversation, Tetsuya remained engaged and interested. He showed his guests the menu and invited them to try his favourite mixed drinks. Of course, his favourite drinks were whatever ones the women took interest in, whether he had actually had them before or not. One of the women got drunk particularly quickly and insisted that Tetsuya kiss her.

“We can’t, madam,” he said, holding the woman and her pouting lips at arms’ length. “My heart may belong to you ladies, but my body belongs to Tomo-chan. We can’t have him getting jealous now, can we?”

The woman huffed. “Tomo-chan, Tomo-chan, stupid Tomo-chan! Why does he get to have all the fun with you?”

Tetsuya smirked. “Then, why don’t we have some fun with him? As a way of punishing him for keeping me all to himself. I don’t believe you’ve ordered a champagne tower here before. Do you ladies know how they work at a host club?”

“We aren’t idiots, of course we know!” growled the drunk woman.

One of the other women, however, was shaking her head. “I’ve seen them at my parents’ parties, but are they different here?”

“Host club champagne towers are exceptionally entertaining!” Tetsuya beamed. “When you order one, the newest host has to build it. If it falls before all the champagne has been drunk, the guests get to decide on a special penalty for that host. And I bet you know who our newest host is!”

“That bastard Aritomo!” said the drunk woman. “I’ll take one! I’ll take a champagne tower!”

“Me too!” said one of the other women.

“And me!” said the third.

Tetsuya grinned as he leaned out of the booth and waved across the club. “Tomo-chan!” he called. “Three champagne towers for Testu-senpai and his guests!”

Aritomo, who was entertaining guests on the other side of the club, excused himself and went to the kitchen to fetch trays full of glasses. As Aritomo prepared, the women and Tetsuya schemed about how they would punish him when the towers inevitably fell. Unfortunately for them, the towers remained steady through the building, the pouring, and the drinking. But the women did not mind much. They had become so drunk that they had forgotten their original goal entirely.

“Well, I suppose that’s enough for tonight,” Tetsuya stated as he rose from the bench.

“But Tetsuya-ah!” one of the guests whined through thick, alcohol heavy breath. She was barely able to keep her head steady on her shoulders.

“Tetsuya, I love you!”

“Please don’t go!”

“I must, ladies,” Tetsuya insisted. “But don’t despair. I’m sure I will see you again soon. In the meantime, please meet me in your dreams tonight.”

“I will!”

“A waiter will be here with the bill shortly. Goodbye.” Tetsuya waved at the protesting women and strode away.

One woman called after him, “Tetsuya, you idiot!” but Tetsuya just laughed and waved. He knew them well by now. He knew they would come back.

The club was about to close and Tetsuya did not have anymore guests. Aritomo had finished, as well, and had gone out back to fetch cleaning supplies. It was customary that new hosts would do janitorial duties. Tetsuya found Aritomo facing the broom closet. The older host wrapped his arms around the waist of the younger, pushing both of them into the closet and shutting the door.

“Tetsuya-senpai,” Aritomo said calmly, “do we have to do this when no one is watching?”

“I just like to keep you on your toes, Tomo-chan,” Tetsuya responded. He kissed his junior’s neck then burrowed his face there.

Aritomo smoothly slipped out of his senior’s arms and turned to face him, leaning against the back wall of the closet casually. “You’re a cruel man, Tetsuya-senpai,” he said. “And to your guests, too. Three champagne towers? Really? How did you get them to spend that much money?”

“It’s fine,” Tetsuya said. “They said they went to Ouran Academy. They’re filthy rich. They can afford a champagne tower each.”

“Ouran?” Aritomo said, picking up a bucket and mop and stepping to open the closet door. Tetsuya followed him out. “Isn’t that the one with all the rich boys playing hosts?”

“That’s the one,” Tetsuya confirmed. “I’m really curious about what a bunch of spoiled rich kids think being a host means. I wanna know more about them, but my customers never want to talk to me about it. Ah!” The two entered the club which was now bare of guests. “Hey, Ryouji-senpai!” Tetsuya called to one of the other hosts. “You get girls from Ouran, too, right? They ever tell you anything about the host club?”

“Sometimes,” Ryouji answered. “Sounds like they mostly just play dress up and goof around. But we never really got guests from Ouran alumni before that club started, and they always spend a lot, so I guess we owe them that.”

“Tsk, if we really owe them then why don’t we send them flowers or something?” the host Eisuke retorted.

“No, that would be a little much—” began the host Gentarou. He was interrupted by Eisuke snarling.

“I was being sarcastic!” Eisuke said.

“Since when do the Japanese use sarcasm…?” Gentarou muttered. Eisuke heard and took a threaten step towards Gentarou, who yelped and hurried to the back to change.

“Well, I’m interested in knowing more about them,” Tetsuya said as he perched himself on top of one of the tables. His comfort was short lived as Aritomo pushed him off in order to wipe the table down. “We could go to their school and ask to meet them.”

“That’s a dumb idea,” Eisuke said.

“How would we even get in?” said Ryouji.

“Easy,” said Tetsuya, leaning against the bar only to be pushed away again by Aritomo trying to clean. “Easy,” he repeated, “the same way you get away with anything. Walk in like we own the place.”


	2. Music Room 3

The host club was open for business. In the bright sunlight beaming through the windows of Music Room 3, the young women of Ouran High School flocked to their gentlemen.

Honey was happily eating cake while his legs dangled from the chair that was too tall for him to reach the floor. Mori gazed into the distance, uninterested.

Hikaru cackled as he retold an embarrassing story at Kaoru’s expense. When the shyer twin became flustered, the bolder twin took him in his arms and comforted him.

Haruhi listened politely to the stories of her guests, answering their questions with style and authenticity.

Tamaki flounced his character by waving his arms expressively as he flattered his guests into blushing, shrieking, heart pounding bundles of affection.

Kyouya was seated near the window on his laptop, managing the sales of host club merchandise. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something out of place. Outside in the courtyard he saw a thin young man in square framed glasses with thick black hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail. Kyouya knew instantly that this was not a student. Not only were his eyes darting back and forth as though he had no idea what country he was in, his clothes did not look to be at Ouran’s calibre. Indeed, the man was dressed in high fashion styles, but the pieces looked more like Harajuku knock offs rather than genuine articles. Kyouya made a mental note of this and continued on with his work.

“But, of course, my princess,” Tamaki cooed into the ear of one of his guests. “My only purpose in life is to serve your every desire. Without your beauty and grace, I am nothing.”

“Oh, Tamaki-sama!” the woman swooned.

“My next, me next!” one of the other guests called across the table.

“Don’t fret, my darling. My feelings for you are so abundant that they are almost impossible to put into words. Nevertheless, I shall persist, for it makes my heart ache to think that you do not know how much you mean to me. Please, allow me the honour of serving you your tea. I searched until I could search no more for a teacup that was worthy of your lips. But, alas, no such cup exists.”

“T-Tamaki-sama!” the women squealed.

“As dramatic as ever, Tamaki-senpai,” Haruhi groaned under her breath at the sounds from the nearby table.

“What was that, Haruhi-kun?” asked one of the guests, leaning in closer.

“Ah, nothing!” Haruhi responded. “I was just thinking about Tamaki-senpai and how… outgoing he can be. I could never have such a big presence.”

“Hehe, I wouldn’t mind seeing Haruhi-kun being as bold as Tamaki-sama,” said one of the guests.

“Really?” another guest responded. “I don’t think I would be able to deal with it. I like Haruhi-kun just the way he is. He’s so refreshing to talk to!”

“And I don’t think the world is ready for two Tamaki-samas!”

The guests laughed at the idea. Haruhi cringed. Her thoughts wandered to the infinite tortures she had been subject to under Tamaki’s whims. She would certainly not appreciate a second being so annoying.

She was pulled away from her ponderings by one of her guests asking her a question. “By the way, Haruhi-kun,” the guest said.

“Yes?” Haruhi responded.

“Is it often that you get male guests?”

“Huh? No, never. At least not while I’ve been here,” Haruhi explained.

“Then I guess it would be strange to have four at once, huh?”

“Yeah, that would be very strange,” Haruhi confirmed. “Is there a reason why you ask?”

“Well,” the guest said, “I was just curious. I mean, there’s four guys here now that I don’t believe are in the host club.”

“Eh?” Haruhi said, eyes widening in confusion. The guest pointed towards the door. Haruhi turned to look over her shoulder.

Four men had just strutted through the doorway and were making their way confidently towards the tables. None of them were wearing school uniforms. In fact, they looked too old to be high school students, and too young to be teachers. Were they from the university?

Haruhi looked back at her guests and with a warm smile said, “Will you excuse me for a moment?” The young women nodded compliantly without taking their eyes off the men coming in.

Haruhi ran towards the doorway and planted herself in front of the group, who stopped when they saw her approaching. “Welcome,” Haruhi said cheerfully, “to the Ouran High School Host Club! How may we be of service to you, gentlemen?”

“Oh, wow,” said one of the men, who had short strawberry blond hair and sported a leather jacket. “They have a dansou host here,” he exclaimed while looking over Haruhi.

“Dansou host…?” Haruhi repeated. Before she could ask what that meant, one of the other men spoke.

“It’d be real interesting if they all turned out to be dansou host, eh, Tomo-chan?” said a golden-haired man with tiger-like black streaks. He was speaking to a younger looking, pale man with wine red hair. The two were standing at a distance that Haruhi would call inappropriately intimate for a public setting, to the point where she was pretty sure the older man had his hand in the back pocket of the pale man’s dark washed jeans.

“Um…” Haruhi tried to interject, but was interrupted again. This time, the interruption was more forceful.

“Are you blind, Tetsuya? Look around you! They’re obviously all guys,” the fourth man said loudly.

“Why should I trust you, Ei-chan?” the tiger-haired man, Tetsuya, retorted. “I’ll never trust you again after you killed Tarou-chan!”

“Don’t call me ‘Ei-chan’!” the loud man shouted. “And I didn’t kill fucking Gentarou!”

“Oh, yeah? Then where is Tarou-chan?” Tetsuya shouted back.

“Um, excuse me?” Haruhi said, holding her hands out in front of herself and backing away from the oncoming confrontation. A glance over each shoulder told her that the guests of the host club were now paying close attention to this ordeal.

“I don’t know! If we’re lucky he got kidnapped by organ harvesters and we’ll never see him again!”

“Ah!” Tetsuya cried. “No, not Tarou-chan! He still owes me a favour for the last time I helped him find his glasses! Come on, Tomo-chan, we’ve got to find him!”

Tetsuya took a fistful of the hem of the wine haired man’s shirt and began dragging him away.

“There’ll be no need for that,” came a familiarly calm voice. Haruhi turned around to see Kyouya approaching them. “I sent an errand boy of mine to fetch him and bring him here. This is the man you are looking for, correct?” Kyouya held out a security camera image of the lanky, spectacled man that had been wandering the courtyard moments earlier.

The man in the leather jacket took the photo in his hands. “Yup, that’s Gentarou, alright,” he confirmed.

“You can tell by the dumb look on his face,” said the man with the loud voice, who was looking at the picture over the other man’s shoulder.

“Thank goodness,” said Tetsuya as he draped himself over the pale man’s shoulders in a strange sort of relieved hug.

The strawberry blond handed the picture back to Kyouya with a glowing smile. “I’m Ryouji. It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance.”

“And yours as well. I’m Ootori Kyouya, vice-president of the Ouran High School Host Club. I doubt you came here as guests, so what is it that brings you all the way from Kabukichou?”

“Huh? How does he know…?” the loud man began, but was stopped by a deliberate waving of Ryouji’s hand.

“It’s alright, Eisuke,” said Ryouji. He turned his attention back to Kyouya. “I suppose if you were able to figure out where we came from using just a picture of Gentarou then you must have an idea of why we’re here.”

“I have a theory,” said Kyouya. “But it’s much more entertaining if you explain it yourselves.”

Ryouji smiled. “Well, as I said, my name is Ryouji. The short tempered one is Eisuke. Mr. PDA over there is Tetsuya, and completing his BL fanservice act is Aritomo. Then, of course, there’s our sweet yet hopelessly directionless friend, Gentarou. And, as I’m sure you already know, Ootori-san, we represent Club Couronne’s finest hosts.”

“Hosts?!”

Shock and awe echoed through the room. The young women chattered amongst themselves while the Ouran High School Hosts stood dumbfounded.

“They’re hosts?” said one of the guests.

“Like, real hosts?”

“Like from a real host club?”

“One that’s open all night?”

“And serves alcohol?”

“And is in a scandalous part of the city?”

“That’s exactly right, ladies,” said Tetsuya proudly as he stepped closer to the crowd, Aritomo attached. “We are the real deal—”

At that moment, Gentarou entered the room with an exhausted look on his face, guided by an Ouran High School first year. “How could you guys abandon me like that? This place is a labyrinth!”

“Ah, Tarou-chan, perfect timing, we were just going to pose!” Tetsuya beamed.

“We’re not going to pose,” Eisuke hissed.

“Oh, yes, we are!” Tetsuya insisted.

“We really aren’t,” Ryouji sighed.

“And, pose!” Tetsuya extended one arm behind himself and extended the same side’s leg in front of himself so that it crossed Aritomo’s body. There was a sly grin on his face as he remained oblivious or uncaring to the fact that he was the only one posing.

Aritomo swayed on his feet slightly, just enough to bump his hips against Tetsuya’s and set him off balance. Tetsuya fell to the ground with a yelp.

“Well, isn’t this fascinating,” Tamaki announced as he swept towards the group, tired of being out of the spotlight. “My ladies, we have been blessed with the presence of professionals of our craft. The hardworking commoners who built the legacy of hosting on their callous shoulders for beauties like myself to stand on! I thank you, brave souls, for finding the stamina to bask in our glory!” Tamaki extended a welcoming hand towards Ryouji, but his gesture was met with stillness.

“Forgive me,” Ryouji said at last. “I had trouble focussing. I just couldn’t take my eyes off of—” Ryouji stepped forward, closer to the crowd of young women, leaning in towards the one at whom he had been gazing, “—the poetry composing itself on your lips. What does it say? If only I could taste them and know their verse.”

“R-R-R-Ryouji…sama…” said the young woman as her eyes began to water and her face turned pink.

“Wait, hold on a second!” Tamaki yelled. “That’s my princess, you can’t talk to her like that!”

Ryouji sighed. “Jealousy is unbecoming of a gentleman,” he said as he turned around.

Tamaki went white. He began to stutter a protest but was interrupted by the swooning crowd. He spun around to see what had taken their attention away from him again.

Aritomo had picked Tetsuya up from where he had landed on the floor earlier and was holding the older man in his arms like a bride.

“C-come on, Tomo-chan, I can’t have my kouhai treating me like this in front of others,” Tetsuya protested.

“Don’t be so foolish,” Aritomo responded gently. “It’s my fault you fell and hit your head. I’ll take responsibility and carry you until you feel strong enough to stand again.”

Tetsuya dug his fingers into the cloth on Aritomo’s chest. “Tomo-chan…” he muttered.

“Hey!” called the Hitachiin twins in unison. “BL is our gimmick!”

“Yeah, we figured,” said Tetsuya, who suddenly appeared to be in full health again, yet remained clinging to Aritomo. “The twincest act. It’s a classic. But it never lasts. True romance is never as—how should I put it? —morally questionable? Jail baiting? Creepy?”

“What did he just call us?” the twins shouted.

“Tetsuya,” Ryouji scolded, “play nice. They’re just kids, after all, they don’t know what they’re doing. Let’s get going now. I don’t see Gentarou anywhere. He must have gone looking for the washroom or something and if we don’t find him soon he’ll end up in Canada.”

Tamaki was stunned. “‘Don’t know—?’”

“‘Don’t know what they’re doing?’” said a surprisingly assertive voice. The Couronne hosts turned back towards the room to see Haruhi furrowing her eyebrows. “It may be true that we don’t know half of the technique of a professional. But the Ouran High School Host Club exists to make girls happy, and that is exactly what we do.”

Tetsuya grinned. “Is that so?” he said, dismounting from Aritomo’s arms and strutting towards Haruhi. “If you’re so confident in your ability to please women, why don’t we make a little game out of it?” he said. Leaning in, he whispered in Haruhi’s ear, “Dansou host-chan?”


End file.
